by David Lubar
That’s when I saw the puppy. He was in the yard by the side of the house, wandering around like he was lost. “Puppy,” I called to him. “Here, boy.” I was afraid he’d act like Sebastian and ignore me. But he turned and looked. Then he ran toward me. As he ran through the grass, I noticed he wasn’t running over the grass. He was really running through it, just like the way I went through the bushes.
“Hi,” I said when he reached me. I bent down to pet him. I was scared my hand would go right through him, but it didn’t. It was like sticking my hand out the car window when the car is going fast. Something pushed against my hand. It was almost like air. But the puppy loved it. He wagged his tail and begged for more when I stopped.
He looked like Browser, Mr. Nordy’s dog, only a lot smaller. I remembered that Mr. Nordy had another dog staying with him for a while. Her name was Sheila. The puppy looked like her, too.
“What’s going on, puppy?” I asked. I didn’t really expect an answer, and I didn’t get one. But at least I wasn’t alone now. I bent down and picked up the puppy. Then I went toward the front of the house.
I ran into trouble before I got there.
Five
THAT SINKING SENSATION
As I walked toward the front of the house, I started thinking about the television again. Even though I had bigger problems, I couldn’t help myself. I could just see Mom and Dad shouting and shaking their heads.
I didn’t notice anything for the first couple of steps. But then I realized I was getting shorter. I’m not that tall to start with, so it made a big difference. And it was worse than that. I only thought I was getting shorter.
Instead, I was sinking into the ground.
This was as bad as walking through the porch. I took another step forward, and sank deeper. I tried stepping backwards. It didn’t matter. I still sank. My legs were deep enough that I couldn’t even see my foot when I took a step.
The ground came up to my chest. I didn’t want to let go of the puppy, but I was afraid I’d drag him under the ground, so I put him down. He ran in a circle around me, barking and leaping all over the place.
“How come you aren’t sinking?” I asked him.
He ran over and licked my face.
“If you can walk on the ground, so can I.” I took a step. I rose a bit higher. I took another step. It seemed to be okay. I was coming back out of the ground. I was halfway around the side of the house now.
Oh, no! I just remembered that it was Saturday. Sebastian’s favorite show—Monster Mayhem—was on tonight. And the TV was broken. I’d really messed things up.
And I was sinking again.
I was back up to my chest.
The puppy thought this was great. I didn’t. There had to be a reason. And I had to find it fast. Even though I wasn’t walking, I was still sinking.
I was up to my chin.
Think, I told myself.
I lifted my hands over my head and tried to stand on my tiptoes, but it didn’t make a difference. My mouth sank under and then my nose. That’s when I realized I wasn’t breathing. My eyes would be next, and I really really didn’t want them under the ground.
Think harder!
I figured it out just as the ground reached the top of my cheeks. Every time I thought about what I’d done wrong—breaking the you-know-what—I sank down. I needed to think about something else. It wasn’t easy.
Dad has a joke where he says, “Quick, don’t think about purple alligators.” Of course, as soon as he says it, I can’t help thinking about purple alligators.
But Mrs. Rubric is always saying, “Rory, try to think before you speak.”
It’s easy to talk without thinking. I’m really good at that. So I started talking to the puppy, telling him all about myself, as we walked to the front of the house.
“I like monsters,” I told him. “My favorite is Frankenstein’s monster. Most kids just call him Frankenstein. That’s wrong. Frankenstein is the doctor who made the monster. Sebastian taught me that. He’s my big brother. You’d like him. He has a poster of Frankenstein’s monster in his room. I want one, too, but Mom says no because it would give me nightmares. So I go look at his.” I really liked that poster. It was big and scary and great. I didn’t like to look at it if I was alone, but I loved to look at it with Sebastian.
It worked. With each step, I went up a little. By the time we got to the front door, I was walking on the ground again.
The porch only came up to my knees when I walked across it, so that wasn’t a big problem. I reached for the knob and my hand went right through it. I realized I could probably just walk in. As I got ready to try, I heard my parents talking inside.
“Where could he be?” Mom asked.
“Calm down,” Dad said. “I’m sure he’s hiding because of the television. What did you expect him to do?”
Oh, boy. They’d found it. When I heard that, I started to sink again. I had to get that thought out of my mind right away. I started to sing a song. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”
That did the trick. I took a step back from the house. I wanted to go inside, because Mom and Dad were there and they could fix anything that I’d done to myself. But I knew that if I went in now, I wouldn’t hear about anything except that broken thing, and I’d be in big trouble if I kept thinking about it.
I had to go somewhere else for help.
“Yip!” The puppy barked at me. I guess he was annoyed that I wasn’t paying attention to him. I looked down at him and had an idea. I knew where I could go for help.
It wasn’t cold outside. I couldn’t feel the temperature, but I could see from the sunshine that it was warm. Even so, the idea I had made me shiver. I felt like my whole body had just been dipped in ice water. Worse, after being dipped, I’d been lifted out into a cold wind. And had a bunch of snowballs thrown at me, while I ate a Popsicle.
Shivering or not, I knew where I had to go.
Six
HAUNT AND SEEK
People are always trying to hide things from kids. They seem to think we can’t stand bad news. But that’s not true. I realized what my bad news was. I’d become a ghost.
“I’m a ghost,” I said out loud, just to make sure that I knew. If my parents were breaking the news to me, they would have dragged it out for hours.
“Rory,” Mom would have said, “did you ever think how special it would be if you could walk through walls?”
Then Dad would add, “Don’t you just love that Christmas story with all the ghosts? You know, the one with Scrooge and Tiny Tim. Isn’t that a great story?”
I didn’t hide the news. There wasn’t any reason to. “I’m a ghost,” I said again, just to make sure I believed myself.
So that was the bad news. But I wasn’t the only ghost. The puppy was also a ghost. If I was a ghost and he was a ghost, that meant there had to be other ghosts. All I had to do was find them. They’d help me. Then I could get back into my body and be a kid again.
I just needed to go to the best place for ghosts. That was easy. Everybody in town knew where that was. We called it the Winston House. I guess the guy who used to own it was named Winston. I really don’t know much about that, but I do know that it’s haunted. Everybody says so. Tony said he’d seen ghosts there, but that doesn’t count. Even so, lots of other kids say it’s haunted, so it has to be.
You could see the top half of the Winston House from here. It’s over on the hill behind the main part of town. It’s real creepy to look at. But that’s not surprising, since it’s haunted.
“Come on, puppy,” I said, “let’s go for a walk.”
At the word walk, he started jumping and yipping. “I have to stop calling you puppy,” I said. “How about a name?”
He wagged his tail, so I guess he liked the idea. Sebastian had read me these fun books about two ghost kids who were twins and had a ghost dog. That dog had a great name, but I didn’t want to steal it. I wanted to come up with my own name.
The puppy yipped
again. That seemed like a good name. “How about Yip?” I asked him.
He agreed.
I guess it seemed silly for me to talk with the puppy like that, but it kept my mind off other things. I might look brave marching right over to the haunted house, but I didn’t feel brave. I felt scared and alone. But I knew I had to do something. I was in all kinds of trouble, and nobody was going to come along and help me.
I’d walked about five blocks when I saw Norman in front of his house. He was standing there looking down the street like he was waiting for something. He’s Sebastian’s friend. But he’s my friend, too. He doesn’t treat me like a kid. Norman is really smart. He knows everything. Maybe he could help me.
“Norman,” I called, running up to him. “Hey, Norman. I’m a ghost.”
Norman took a step and walked right through me.
It was weird, because it didn’t feel like anything. When his body passed through my head, I saw inside him. But it was real dark, and I think I closed my eyes. I wish I’d closed my ears. I heard his heart. It sounded all squishy and wet.
“Norman,” I called as he walked away.
He didn’t stop. It was hard to remember that people couldn’t hear me. I was used to being seen. I’d been visible all my life. Well, I was invisible to adults sometimes, but they could still see me if they had to. I tried again.
“Norman!” I shouted.
He paused and looked around, then said, “How peculiar. I appear to be having an auditory hallucination. Not unusual, considering the number of synapses in the cerebral cortex. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
I had no idea what that meant. “NORMAN!” I shouted again. This time, he didn’t even stop or look around. He ran down the street toward the mailman, who was coming this way. I guess he was waiting for a package or something.
I turned back toward the Winston House. I’m not supposed to cross the street by myself. That’s one of the big rules. There are lots of rules, but only a couple of big ones. Those are the ones that, if you don’t listen, you could get hurt. Don’t play with matches. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t get anyone in the Mellon family angry with you.
I guess the big rules didn’t count right now. Even so, it felt funny walking across a street without holding anybody’s hand. Then Yip ran ahead and a car came at him. I screamed. The car went right through Yip without hitting him. He wasn’t hurt at all.
Even though I knew I couldn’t be hurt, either, I didn’t want to get hit. So I raced over and grabbed Yip and hurried to the other side of the street. I guess I was really a chicken crossing the road. That made me laugh.
I kept feeling happy all the way across town, until I got close to the hill. Then I walked up the hill, watching the Winston House growing bigger and bigger. It almost looked like a little castle. There were three floors. I could tell that from the windows. One corner had a round part—I don’t know what they call it. That’s what made me think of a castle. The old brown paint was pretty faded, and a lot of it had fallen off. By now, I was so close, I had to bend my head back to see the top of the house.
“It’s daytime,” I said. “Nothing scary happens in the daytime.”
Boy, was that a lie. Look how much had happened to me already since I got up this morning.
But I had another idea. “I’m a ghost,” I said. “Nothing can hurt me.”
Boy, was that a lie, too. I thought about sinking into the ground, and knew that even when you’re a ghost, bad things can happen.
“It’s just other ghosts in there,” I said, looking ahead at the Winston House. “A ghost would never hurt another ghost.”
I wondered whether that was the biggest lie of all. It was like saying a kid would never hurt another kid, or an adult would never hurt another adult. Kids hurt kids all the time. There was a bully in my class, so I knew about getting hurt. And if adults didn’t hurt other adults, we wouldn’t need police officers and soldiers. But we have lots of them.
Stop talking, I said to myself, and get going.
I walked up to the Winston House. For as long as I could remember, it had been empty. Nobody lived there. Nobody who was alive, at least. Right now, as I stood in the front yard, I could hear voices inside—a whole bunch of voices.
Seven
WELCOME?
I walked up the steps. When I realized what I was doing, I was so surprised, I stopped and looked down. Back home, I’d gone right through the porch. Maybe the Winston House was so haunted, it was like a ghost itself. I bent and touched the porch. I couldn’t push my hand through it, but I didn’t really feel anything.
I went up the rest of the steps and knocked on the door. Nobody came, but the door swung open. It made a spooky creaking sound, and I almost turned and ran. Even with the sun shining, the sound scared me. Yip trotted ahead. I guess he didn’t know that this was a scary place. I followed him.
There were four people in a living room. Two men were sitting, reading books, and a man and a woman were talking. They were dressed differently. One of the men who was reading had ancient clothes, like someone from Pilgrim times. He was sitting in a plain old wood rocking chair. The woman and the other man with a book had old clothes, but not as old as the Pilgrim’s. The man who was talking to the woman had normal stuff. The two of them were next to each other on a couch.
“Hi,” I called.
Nobody looked up.
“Hey. Can you hear me?” I shouted.
They didn’t pay any attention to me. I walked into the middle of the room. They had to be ghosts. This was a haunted house, and I was sure that nobody could see them. Nobody who was alive, that is. I went up to the woman.
“Excuse me,” I said. I tapped her on the shoulder. She felt like Yip—that same feeling of being there, but being made of nothing. I was sure she was a ghost.
Even so, she paid no attention to me.
“Excuse me,” I said again. “Can you help me?” I felt another shiver run through me. I wasn’t afraid of her—I was afraid she couldn’t hear me. What if nobody—not even other ghosts—could hear me? I couldn’t imagine ever being that alone.
Finally, she looked over. “Just a minute. I’m busy right now. Can’t you see we’re talking?”
“Sorry.” I backed up and waited, but I could tell right away that she’d forgotten all about me. I looked at the man she was talking to. He didn’t notice me, either.
I walked over to the Pilgrim guy, but I realized he’d never help me. I’d learned that in school. The Pilgrims were always saying, “Children should be seen and not heard.”
Mrs. Rubric told us about that on the first day of school. Then, whenever we were talking, she’d say, “Now, class, let’s all be good little Pilgrims.”
Yip was running around, sniffing at everything, but they didn’t pay any attention to him, either. I went over to the last guy in the room. “Mister?” I said.
He held a finger to his lips and said, “Shush. Can’t you see I’m reading. Whatever your question is, I’m sure it can wait.”
“But—” I was getting tired of this.
“Shush! Now, be a good boy and run along and play.”
I walked into the hallway. There was someone in the next room. It was a woman. Maybe she’d help me. As I walked in, she screamed.
I jumped back. I expected to feel my heart pounding, but there was nothing like that inside me. My body was quiet.
The woman clenched her fists and screamed again. Then she fell to the ground.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run. But I also wanted to help her. Before I could do anything, she got up. She screamed again. And she fell again.
And again.
I turned and ran down the hall, heading toward the door. I didn’t care if there were answers here. The place was too creepy.
“You’re new.”
I stopped and looked up toward the voice. There was a girl standing on the stairs by the second floor. She was about Angelina’s age, but dressed like someone in those pi
ctures from before there were cars and everyone rode around the cities in horse carts.
She came down a step. “Yes, you’re new. But you aren’t dead yet.”
“What?” I stared up at her as she came down the rest of the steps.
She reached out and put a hand on my forehead, almost like Mom does when I have a fever. Except Mom’s hand feels cool when I have a temperature. This hand didn’t feel cold or hot.
“An hour,” she said. Then she frowned and moved her hand a little like she was searching for something. “No, two hours. Yes, you have two hours. I’m sure of it.” She sighed and added, “I do so wish we had flowers here. I haven’t seen flowers in ages.”
“What do you mean?” I didn’t understand what she was talking about. “Two hours for what?”
“That’s how much life your body has left,” she said. She smiled and closed her eyes. “You look very peaceful, lying there. Yes, two hours. If nobody finds you…”
“After that?” I asked.
“Then you’ll be dead for good, and you’ll never be able to go back. But you can come here.” She let her hand drop from my forehead. “Could you bring me flowers?” she asked.
I turned and ran from the house. As I rushed down the steps, I looked at my watch. It was 4:13. If I didn’t get someone to find my body, I’d be dead by 6:13—dead forever.
Eight
THE SPIRITS ARE ABOUT TO SPEAK
I ran down the street. Yip ran with me. He was having a lot of fun. I wasn’t. When I got to the bottom of the hill, I saw something that made me stop.
“That’s it,” I said. There was a house with a sign in the window. I couldn’t read all of the words—I’m just learning a little bit of that right now. They aren’t teaching it in school yet, but Sebastian’s been showing me some words. I know how to read house and car and vampire. And I know Frankenstein from Sebastian’s poster. That didn’t help. Those words weren’t on the sign in the window. But there was a picture of a hand and a crystal ball. I knew what that meant—there was a fortune-teller here. Maybe she’d be able to see me.
